Take cross and pike and gold and sophistry, To pray and prod and purchase, wheedle, wile; Stamp out the roses in a waste of weeds, Shout while the trembling voice of truth is hushed.
"The Three Heron's Feathers"
Hermann Sudermann
He'd get up and go about a little whenever we'd prod 'im, but he'd lie down whenever our backs was turned.
"Dixie Hart"
Will N. Harben
We've been keeping on the prod.
"Border, Breed Nor Birth"
Dallas McCord Reynolds